Gone
by madderreds
Summary: Companion piece/follow up to "The House at the Corner of Third and Mirella." Elricest, M.


It's been seven months since they'd restored their bodies.

Five since they'd moved into the house at the corner of Third and Mirella.

One month since the drunken night at the bar.

After that night, Al had hoped that all would be resolved between them, that they would just be _together_. He's wrong, of course.

At first, it's like there's nothing else in the world but each other—feverish kissing, hands almost always touching the other, bruises from their late nights that Al blushingly covered with collared shirts.

But then, Ed drew back.

One night, Ed surprises him in the shower and pins him against the wall, kissing him furiously before burying his face in Al's neck. Al can feel him leaving marks on his skin, but can only moan in pleasure as Ed runs his hands over every inch of Al's skin. Then, without warning, the hands and lips still, leaving Al gasping for breath. He's about to complain about the sudden pause when he notices that Ed's hands are trembling.

Not just his hands. His whole body is trembling.

"Brother?" Al opens his eyes, and sees the older Elric staring into his shoulder, his mind miles away. "Brother?" he asks again softly, and touches Ed's jaw. Ed jerks back at the touch, as if it burned him, still trembling. There is tense silence and an uncomfortable distance between them as Ed stares into Al's eyes, saying nothing, still not touching. Without warning, Ed's eyes fill with tears, and before Al can do anything, he's gone, slamming the door behind him—leaving Al standing in shower, worried and alone.

Al finishes his shower mindlessly, his mind on Ed. When he finally does get out of the shower, their bedroom door is locked. He can hear muffled, indistinct sounds coming from inside. Part of him wants to let Ed be, let him work out whatever he's feeling in his own time, but the sound of muffled crying breaks his resolve. Al can't stand to see his brother hurt, especially when he doesn't even know _why_.

The door is locked—but locks can't stop an alchemist.

The room is dark, even more so after the bright flash of alchemical light. Al gingerly feels his way through the room, cursing softly when he stubs his toes into the dresser. Ed is quiet now—he's never been one to cry, especially in front of others. Even Al. When he finally reaches their bed, he reaches out and finds Ed's shoulder. Silence. Climbing into the bed slowly, Al wraps himself around Ed in the way that he has so many times before. Ed doesn't push him away, like Al half expects him to; instead, he lays his head in the crook of Al's arm. Neither says a word, even when Ed begins to tremble again.

The next morning, Ed is gone. That night, Al cries himself to sleep, alone in their bed.

The marks Ed left on Al's neck last a week.

* * *

The days drag by slowly without Ed. Al waits.

That first morning, when he'd woken up alone in their bed, all he could do lie there, hoping that Ed was just out running errands, or working, that he wasn't just _gone_. But the sinking feeling in his stomach only got worse as he watched morning fade into afternoon, and afternoon fade into night from their bedroom window.

The next day, waking up on a wet pillow, he gets up, he does things. He cleans the kitchen, organizes and reorganizes the bookshelves, makes dinner. None of it feels right without Ed, but he does it anyways. The smell of bleach in the kitchen chases away Ed's smell, and alphabetizing all of their alchemy books occupies his mind for a new hours. Dinner is a necessity, and he tries not to think about the empty chair across from him.

He tries not to worry incessantly, tries not to think about it too much, but at the end of third day, it is all he can do to keep himself from going out and searching for Ed. He is standing in the door, coat in his hand, but he can't bring himself to cross the threshold. "Brother will come back," he tells himself, "he'll come back in his own time. I just have to be patient."

The fourth day: more of the same. Grocery shopping, even though he isn't hungry; cleaning the house, even though without Ed making messes, the house has stayed remarkably clean. Reluctantly, he washes their bed sheets. When they're dry, they no longer smell like Ed, only soap. Al buries his face into them and cries, afraid that they will never smell like Ed again.

After a week has gone by with no word from Ed, Al swallows his pride and calls General Mustang. He thinks that maybe Ed has taken an assignment, to travel and soothe his wanderlust, still hoping that Ed is not just _gone_. But the General hasn't seen Ed, much less heard from him ("as if FullMetal would come to _me_ for permission, Alphonse"). Hawkeye hasn't heard from Ed; neither have Havoc or Breda. Ed is just _gone_.

For the first time since Ed has left, Al is angry. Furious. Ed has _left_ him.

He is in the backyard well past midnight, practicing the stances that Teacher had taught him so long ago. His body flies through the stances, letting his muscle memory guide him. With a fierce joy, Al remembers that Ed has only managed to beat him _once_. Finally, after hours of practicing, he collapses onto the grass, his body too exhausted to continue. Ed is gone, but he comforts himself with that fact that he will be able to _soundly_ get his older brother's ass when he comes home.

_If _he comes home, says a voice in the back of his mind.

He lies in the grass, staring up at the empty sky until his eyes start to water.

* * *

After three weeks, Al gives up on waiting. He spends an awful day packing up Ed's things and putting the boxes into their—his—attic. That night, sitting on the couch with a sore back, Al keeps thinking that the old attic floorboards creaking are knocks on the door.

* * *

Four weeks after Ed has gone, Al finally makes an overdue call to Risembool. The Rockbells take it better than he expected: Winry does not cry, she is quiet, composed, her voice tinny over the long distance line. Pinako only asks if he needs to come home; when he declines, Winry immediately offers to come visit him in Central. He almost takes her up on the offer—he could use the company, the house is too big without Ed to fill it—but then he thinks of long awkward pauses, of them tiptoeing around things that he can't say.

He loves Winry, but he will never be able to explain to her how much he has lost.

He loves Winry, but she will never understand.

* * *

A month and a half after Ed has left, Al receives an unmarked letter in the mail. There is no return address, and the envelope is covered is postage stamps, marking all the places it has traveled through. He holds the envelope in his hands for a long time, tracing the creases with his thumbs.

When he finally opens the envelope, there is only a blank sheet of paper inside.


End file.
